Judgment

Regaining a little consciousness, Tanaka opened his bloodshot eyes. At the sight of the Kakushi Corps uniforms around him, he froze for a moment, then seized Goto's collar with his only remaining hand as though clutching at a lifeline and let out a hysterical howl:

"Save me! Take me away! That lunatic... that Mizunoto swordsman named Rokuya, he's a monster! He's a devil!"

Tanaka's tears mingled with his snot, his expression twisted beyond recognition. Overwhelmed by fear and jealousy, he began frantically fabricating lies:

"He set me up! He left me to die! Not only did he refuse to help me kill the demons, he threw me to those monsters as bait! All these injuries are his fault! He isn't human at all. He must be working for the demons! Arrest him, report him to the Master, and execute him! Execute him!!!"

Goto watched Tanaka throwing a frenzied tantrum on the stretcher, a flicker of utter disgust and contempt crossing his cold eyes.

As a veteran of the Kakushi Corps who had spent years entering all kinds of killing grounds, how could Goto fail to see what had happened here? He pried Tanaka's filthy hand loose and said coldly, "Swordsman Tanaka, watch your words. We've just examined the scene. Every wound on your body was caused by demons' claws and blunt weapons striking you from behind. That means you were injured while running away with your back to the demons. And the damage to your Nichirin Blade came from forcing it to block an attack beyond your ability to withstand."

Goto stood up and pointed at the scorch marks and enormous sword gouges covering the ground deep inside the cavern. "As for your claim that Swordsman Rokuya was working for the demons... open your damned eyes and look at these marks! Fifty demons, including a mutated demon whose strength approached that of a Lower Rank, were all slain by him alone! He saved one hundred and twelve villagers! And you, a Kanoto swordsman, pissed yourself the instant the battle began and abandoned your comrade to flee for your life. What right do you have to stand here barking?!"

Mercilessly exposed by Goto, Tanaka turned deathly pale, but he remained stubborn to the bitter end, muttering through gritted teeth, "Impossible... how could a rookie who joined just a month ago kill fifty demons... it must have been sorcery, it must have..."

"Shut up, you useless piece of trash." Goto could not be bothered with the hopeless coward any longer and waved a hand. "Pick him up and strap him tight to our sturdiest stretcher. Don't let him go berserk halfway there. We're going to the village to greet the real hero."

When the Kakushi Corps arrived at the center of the village, they happened to catch the villagers' daily "praise the sun" ritual.

Watching more than a hundred people jumping wildly toward a boy sitting on a rock munching an apple, every member of the Kakushi Corps stood rooted to the spot, dumbfounded.

"Wh-what are they doing? Some kind of evil brainwashing ritual?" a young member stammered.

Rokuya tossed the apple core precisely into a hollow in a tree ten meters away, brushed the dust from his hands, and stood up. His deep blue eyes swept indifferently over the Kakushi Corps before finally settling on Tanaka, who was strapped to the stretcher.

"Oh? Still alive." Rokuya's voice was utterly calm, as though he were looking at a stinking bug by the roadside. "Lucky you. But we'll settle this score soon enough."

Goto took a deep breath and strode up to Rokuya. Without the slightest hesitation, he dropped to one knee and gave a perfectly formal salute. "Goto, captain of the Kakushi Corps' Fourth Squad, reporting to Swordsman Rokuya! Thank you for your distinguished service in Mochizuki Village. You saved these innocent lives and upheld the honor of the Demon Slayer Corps!"

"Enough. Spare me the formalities." With one hand, Rokuya scooped up Shura, the three-hundred-jin great blade leaning against the tree trunk, and lightly rested it on his shoulder. The effortless movement made every Kakushi Corps member's eyelids twitch wildly. "Since you're here, I'll leave the cleanup to you. I need to visit headquarters anyway. Lead the way."

"Yes!"

Three days later, at the secluded Ubuyashiki Estate on the outskirts.

The courtyard, which held a hundred years of Demon Slayer Corps history, retained its serenity, aloof from worldly affairs. A breeze passed through, and the wisteria blooming in the courtyard swayed like purple waterfalls, giving off a delicate yet deadly fragrance. The white gravel had been arranged in rippling patterns, and everything seemed so peaceful.

Yet today, the atmosphere in the courtyard was oppressively heavy, and even the air held a hint of a conflict ready to erupt.

At the very center of the courtyard, Kagaya Ubuyashiki sat upright on the wooden veranda. Though purplish-red curse marks had already spread across his face, leaving him nearly blind, his gentle, wise bearing still made him resemble a deity who pitied the world. Beside him stood his two white-haired daughters, as exquisite as porcelain dolls.

Three figures with terrifying presences stood on either side of the courtyard.

The first on the left was a giant of a man over two meters tall, like an iron tower. His palms were pressed together as he fingered a string of enormous prayer beads, two streams of clear tears flowing ceaselessly from his eyes. He was the Stone Hashira, Gyomei Himejima.

"Namu Amida Butsu... such a tragic case of comrades turning on each other. How sorrowful, how lamentable..."

The second on the left wore an ornate, jewel-studded head wrap and red eye makeup, his muscles bulging like blocks of granite. He was the Sound Hashira, Tengen Uzui.

"How utterly unflashy! A Kanoto swordsman actually fled the battlefield in terror, then bawled for his mommy and daddy in front of everyone. He's disgraced the entire Demon Slayer Corps!"

The Flame Hashira, Shinjuro Rengoku, was away on a mission and had been unable to attend.

In the very center of the courtyard, on the white-sand clearing, Tanaka lay sprawled like a maggot. Dark red blood had already seeped through his bandages, but he continued recklessly pounding his head against the ground, crying out in anguish.

"Master! You must give me justice!!!"

Pointing at Rokuya, who stood nearby with an indifferent expression, Tanaka roared through gritted teeth, "It was him! That bastard named Rokuya! He deliberately hid his strength to steal the credit and left me to die when the demons surrounded us! He watched the demons gravely wound me before finally making a move! And that's not all. There's definitely something wrong with him! How could one person kill fifty demons? That blade in his hand isn't a Nichirin Blade at all. It's black! He must have used some vile sorcery, or he's working for the demons!"

Tanaka's shrill, piercing voice echoed through the quiet courtyard, sounding especially grating.

Faced with Tanaka's frenzied accusations, Rokuya did not so much as lift an eyelid. He held Shura in one hand, sheathed in coarse cloth, its tip resting carelessly on the white sand. His eyes were filled with impatience.

"Are you finished?" Rokuya's voice was quiet, yet it reached everyone's ears clearly. He raised his head slightly. His deep eyes held not a ripple, only indifference toward a dead man.

"Y-you still dare act so arrogant! Would you actually dare kill me to silence me in front of the Master and the Hashira?!" Rokuya's gaze made Tanaka shudder, but relying on the fact that they were at headquarters, he continued blustering, fierce on the outside but terrified within.

An icy smile curved Rokuya's lips, and his signature catchphrase slipped out. "You talk too much. Since you want to die, I'll oblige. Let's see you take one strike from me first."